


helpless

by starbornvalkyrie



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26752819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbornvalkyrie/pseuds/starbornvalkyrie
Summary: Rhysand Stellano had it made. He’s next in line to be Managing Director at Velaris Investments in New York City. He has a penthouse apartment on Park Avenue. Work hard, play harder is the motto he and his best friends live by, and he never sleeps with the same woman twice. He’s on a straight path up the Wall Street hierarchy until she comes into his life. When his world is turned on its axis, will Rhys be able to accept it or will everything he built crumble?
Relationships: Elain Archeron/Azriel, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	helpless

I woke up to something wet and rough on my face. Something like a dog tongue, and I smiled with my eyes closed until I realized--I don’t have a dog. I always wanted one but my work schedule wouldn't allow it. Neither would my apartment complex.

Slowly, I cracked open my right eye, revealing a giant golden labradoodle staring at me expectantly. Running through the catalog in my brain, I couldn’t recall ever meeting this particular canine. Opening my left eye made teal bed sheets appear in my peripheral. When I tried to locate the clock on my nightstand, it wasn't there. But I noticed a picture frame with a blonde with her arm wrapped around a brunette.

The brunette I didn’t recognize at all, but the blonde tickled something in the back of my memory.

Movement on the other side of the bed shook me from my mental search. A pale, slender arm wrapped itself around my body, its well-manicured hand coming to rest on top of my heart.

I knew without turning around that I’d find the blonde from the photo, and the events from the previous night flooded my brain, although I can't say I'm surprised by them. 

I went to Rita's. 

Got wasted. 

Ended up in the bed of some random female. 

A normal Thursday night in the life of Rhysand Stellano. 

The morning-after part, however, I try my best to avoid. I once heard a rumour there's a group of cab drivers who keep tabs on what building I end up in at the end of the night because they know I’ll tip more than extra to the one who drives me home between the hours of 3 and 4 in the morning.

I mean, they're not wrong.

Lesson Number One if you want to get to know me: I never sleep with the same woman twice, and the word “girlfriend” is not in my vocabulary.

As slowly and carefully as I could, I extracted myself from the woman’s grasp and bed, her dog following my every move. By the time I donned my suit from the night before and ensured I had all of my belongings, the labradoodle started to whine.

I made it all the way through her apartment and out the door without incident, but just before the door clicked shut, I heard her call, “Baby?” With a snort, I closed the door and went to hail a cab home. 

I honestly couldn’t tell you what part of Manhattan I crashed in last night, but it wasn’t long before we were pulling up to my apartment on Park Avenue. I waved to the receptionist and took the elevator to the 85th floor: the penthouse.

Oh yeah, Lesson Number Two: I’m rich as sin.

As the youngest Senior Vice President at Velaris Investments, you’d think clients would prefer the VPs with more experience, but I didn’t get to where I am with just my pretty face. My brain sees numbers on the stock market the same way an artist sees the colors on a canvas, and my intuition has saved my clients millions over the years.

But before Wall Street, I was a three-term president of my fraternity at Columbia University and still graduated Summa Cum Laude and overall top of my class. 

Which brings me to Lesson Number Three: my IQ is higher than my penthouse apartment.

But I wasn’t a trust fund baby, didn't spend daddy's money with no limits. I was on a scholarship and had to work a part time job for the fraternity fees. 

So, the last one for now, Lesson Number Four: there’s more to me than meets the eye, but I can’t reveal all my secrets yet, now can I?

\---

After my 9am update meeting, I was in the middle of texting my Friday Starbucks barista that I was on my way when my assistant, Clare, told me I had an urgent call on line one. Confused, I answered the phone, “Rhysand Stellano.”

An unfamiliar voice replied. “Good morning, Mr. Stellano. I’m Doctor Viviane St. James from New York Presbyterian hospital. I’m calling because an Amarantha Montague listed you as her emergency contact, does that ring a bell?”

Long, bright red hair, and a seductive smile came to mind. “Yes, ma’am, I know Amarantha, although we haven’t spoken in months. I wouldn’t say we were close enough to be emergency contacts.”

“I see. It would seem she also listed you as the father of her child.”

My heart stopped.

Silence rang in my ears.

“Come again?”

“Mr. Stellano, I understand this may be a lot for you to process, but are you able to come to the hospital? We have some matters we would like to discuss with you in person.”

I didn’t have a grasp on myself anymore, but I must have agreed because Dr. St. James bid me farewell with directions to the maternity wing. I wasn’t sure how long I sat there with the phone still to my ear after the doctor hung up, but then there was a knock at my door and my assistant’s head popped in.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Stellano?”

I couldn’t look at her as I said, “Clare, I need you to clear my schedule for the rest of the day. And send Cassian and Azriel in here.” Then I remembered myself. Cleared my throat. “Please,” I added.

I swiveled in my chair to look out the window before she could reply. It was overcast, slightly drizzling. Fitting. I heard the door open and close then the sound of leather as my best friends sat in my guest chairs.

Behind me, Cassian whispered, “Dude, is it just me, or is Rhys being weird?”

Azriel must have smacked Cassian upside the head because his next word was “ow!”

After a beat, I said, “I think I’m a dad.”

“Come again?” Azriel echoed my words to the doctor.

I took a deep breath and turned back around to face the two guys who know me better than anyone. “Do you remember that Christmas party the bosses threw at Rita’s?”

“The one with brown haired big tits or was it purple tipped hourglass?” Azriel gave him an incredulous look that must have mirrored my own. “What? It’s how I remember the women Rhysie, here, always goes home with: hair color, body feature--stop looking at me like that. It’s not like he remembers their names either.”

He wasn’t wrong, but shame filled my gut. “Do you remember the red head with long hair?”

“Oh yeah. She had the biggest ass I have ever--”

Azriel cut him off, “ _Dude_.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

I rolled my eyes at their antics. “Well, her name is Amarantha. She had me down as her emergency contact _and_ the father of her child. I’m assuming she just gave birth? I’m not sure, the doctor over at New York Pres just gave me a call. Asked me to go down there to talk.”

“How do you know it’s yours? I’m sure Amarantha knows who you are. Do you think she just said that to get your money? Maybe she’s desperate.”

“I’ve heard of women doing that before. Bitches be crazy.”

“Cassian, how the fuck are you married?”

“Nesta thinks I’m charming.”

“I can assure you,” Azriel argued, “she has never used that word to describe you.”

“Yeah? Did _Elain_ tell you that?” Cassian taunted him right back. I tuned them out. These men are like my brothers, but I should have known better than to call them in right now. My mind was trapped in a whirlwind of possibilities. I’m a safe guy, you wouldn’t even want to know how much I spend on condoms.

But also… I remember Amarantha. She was different. She had this...air about her that lured me in, and now I can’t remember any details about our time that night. I shook my head to clear it, preparing myself to head to the hospital.

I made sure everything with my clients were squared away for the day and left for the hospital.

\---

I've always loathed hospitals. 

Don't get me wrong, I have utmost respect for doctors and nurses, but you lose people in hospitals. Too much of my childhood was spent in the halls of Cesere General. But now’s not the time for that.

Dr. St. James’ directions to the maternity wing went in one ear and out the other, so I followed a receptionist down the pristine walls of New York Presbyterian to where she pointed out a stunning woman with white hair and striking blue eyes sitting at a nurses’ station.

She stood to meet us, shaking my hand to formally introduce herself as Dr. Viviane St. James, an OB/GYN Attending at New York Presbyterian.

“Mr. Stellano, I’m sure you’re still processing our conversation this morning, and there’s much more I must tell you. But first things first, it seems you’re unsure of your actual status as the father of Ms. Montague’s baby, correct?” I could only nod. “We can run a paternity test if you’d like. We would need a small blood sample from you.”

My voice was gruff when I answered her. “Yes, please, that would be fine.”

She brought out some consents for me to sign, explained all the healthcare jargon, and had a nurse come to draw my blood. After the nurse left to send the vial to the lab, Dr. St. James asked me to follow her to her office to wait for the results. 

I sat down in one of her guest chairs across the desk from her. She took off her glasses, and I realized she’s a lot younger than I originally thought.

Dr. St. James clasped her fingers together on her desk and looked me in the eye as she spoke. “Ms. Montague gave us her consent to inform you about everything that has gone on here the last few days.”

The last few _days_? What on earth is going on?

“A friend brought her in Monday afternoon,” she went on, “because she was experiencing severe pains that weren't quite contractions yet, but we admitted her for observation and pain relief. Around 2200 hours last night, she began going into active labor, and we prepared her for birth. At 0330 hours this morning, she was rushed into an emergency c-section. Our team of doctors worked diligently to deliver the baby--a baby girl.”

I let out a breath. I have a daughter. I didn’t know what it was, but without the paternity test results, I somehow knew she was mine.

“She is perfectly healthy, but a little on the small side. She weighed in at about 4 pounds and 15 ounces, so we brought her up to the NICU where she will stay until she weighs at least 6 pounds.”

Dr. St. James paused her story telling, but I had to know. “And Amarantha? Can I see her? I have to talk to her.”

The doctor in front of me kept her composure, the only thing giving away her nervousness was the twiddle of her thumbs. A pit of dread formed in my stomach, waiting for what she had to say.

“Unfortunately, after the delivery of her baby, Ms. Montague began to bleed profusely, far more than is normal in a cesarean section. Our team worked tirelessly and did everything they could, but there was too much blood.” My blood pounded in my ears. It was so loud that when she lowered her voice, I could barely hear her. “At 0506 hours this morning, Ms. Montague passed away.”

The office around me went away. This woman, I barely even knew her. It was a one night stand, if you wanted to put a term to it. Yet, I can’t help but feel grief for her death and what it means. A knock at the door brought me out of my reverie, and Dr. St. James got up to meet the person. 

There was a hushed conversation at my back then she was back, papers in hand.

“Mr. Stellano?” I could only stare. “Would you like to meet your daughter?”


End file.
